W. Griffin - The shooters

"I'm going to try very hard, sir," Castillo said.

"Well, just don't stand there in the door," Mrs. Timmons said. "Come in and meet the others. There's coffee and cake."

Captain Timmons took Castillo's arm in a firm grasp and led him through a short corridor to a living room. There were two women there, who looked like Mrs. Timmons, and half a dozen men, two in police uniform and four in casual clothes, who, Castillo decided, might as well have had POLICEMAN painted on their foreheads.

"This is Colonel Castillo," Captain Timmons announced. "The man the President says can get Junior back. The lieutenant is Eddie Lorimer, Junior's pal down there in Paraguay. I don't know who the others are. Colonel, what about identifying the others, and then I'll introduce everybody?"

"Yes, sir," Castillo said. "This is Colonel Jake Torine, U.S. Air Force, that's Tom McGui-"

"They've got their own Gulfstream airplane," Captain O'Day furnished.

"I wondered how they got here so quick," one of the cops said.

"…Tom McGuire," Castillo went on, "who's a Supervisory Special Agent of the Secret Service, and this gentleman is Colonel Alfredo Munz, who before his retirement was Chief of SIDE in Argentina. SIDE is sort of our CIA and FBI rolled into one. Munz now works with us."

"I thought Junior was in Paraguay," one of the cops said.

"Paraguay and Argentina share a border, sir," Castillo said.

"Okay, now it's my turn," Captain Timmons said, motioning for Castillo to follow him to the people sitting on a couch, two matching armchairs, and two chairs obviously borrowed from the dining room.

"This is Captain, retired, Frank Timmons, Junior's grandfather, known as Big Frank."

"And I'm the goddamned fool, Colonel, God forgive me, who told Junior to go federal."

Castillo shook Big Frank's hand, then Lorimer and McGuire and Munz followed suit.

"And this is Sergeant Charley Mullroney, Junior's sister Ellen's husband-that's her over there. Charley works Narcotics on the job."

Castillo shook Mullroney's hand, then smiled and nodded at Mrs. Mullroney across the room.

"And this is Stan Wyskowski, of the DEA, Charley's pal."

"And I'm the guy who got Junior in the DEA, Colonel."

Castillo shook Wyskowski's hand.

Wyskowski, I admire your balls for being here. That has to be tough.

"And this is the mayor," Captain Timmons said.

Jesus H. Christ! I thought he was another cop-relative.

"The President speaks very highly of you, Colonel," the mayor said as he shook Castillo's hand. "I'm happy to meet you, and that you are here."

"An honor, sir," Castillo said. "I'm sorry I have to be here under these circumstances."

"Well, Colonel, I've always found the way to deal with a problem is get it out in the open and then start working on it."

"Yes, sir," Castillo said.

"And this," Captain Timmons said, moving to the third man on the couch. "is…"

Castillo shook that man's hand, but his name-or those of the others-failed to register in his memory.

His mind was busy thinking of something else…

The mayor, who the President has made perfectly clear is to get whatever he wants from me, is not just doing a friend of the family a favor.

He's part of this family.

"And that's about it, I guess," Lorimer said when he had finished telling everybody what he knew of the situation.

He did that about as well as it could be done, Castillo thought.

"Would it be all right if I called you 'Eddie'?" Captain Timmons asked.

"Yes, sir, of course."

"That was a good job, Eddie," Captain Timmons said. "I don't have any questions. Anybody else?"

"I got a couple," Big Frank said.

"Sir?" Lorimer asked politely.

"That Irish Argentine cop, Duffy, Junior was on his way to see when these slimeballs grabbed him. Are there a lot of Irish cops down there? And is this one of the good ones? And what's the Gendarmeria Nacional?"

Lorimer glanced at Castillo, who nodded just perceptibly.

"I know Byron trusted Comandante Duffy, sir," Lorimer said. "But maybe Colonel Munz can speak to that?"

"I know Comandante Duffy," Munz said. "Not well, but well enough to know that he's a good man. I haven't spoken to him since this happened, but he's about the first man I'm going to talk to when we get down there. I'm sure he's almost as upset about Agent Timmons as you are."

Big Frank nodded.

Munz went on: "So far as Irish people in Argentina, the ethnic mix in Argentina-and Uruguay and Chile, but not Paraguay-is much like that in the States. My family came from Germany, for example. There are more people from Italy than from Spain. And many Irish. There are many Irish police, especially in the Gendarmeria Nacional."

"Which is what?" Big Frank said.

"A police force with authority all over Argentina," Munz said. "They are a paramilitary force, more heavily armed than the Federal Police. They wear brown rather than blue uniforms, and enjoy the trust of the Argentine people."

"What does that mean?" Big Frank asked. "The other cops aren't trusted?"

"Can we agree, Captain, that dishonest police are an international problem?" Munz asked reasonably. "And that the problem is made worse by all the cash available to drug people? Or, for that matter, the criminal community generally?"

"I'd have to agree with that," the mayor said.

"Let me put it this way," Munz said. "When the Jewish Community Center was blown up in Buenos Aires several years ago-"

"Blown up?" Captain Timmons asked. "By who?"

"Most of us believe the Iranians had something to do with it," Munz said. "But the point I was trying to make was, when it became obvious that protection of synagogues, etcetera, was going to be necessary, the Jewish community-there are more Jews in Argentina than any place but New York-demanded, and got, the Gendarmeria Nacional as their protectors."

"Meaning they didn't trust the other cops?" Captain Timmons asked.

"Meaning they trusted the Gendarmeria more," Munz said.

"You're slick, Colonel," Big Frank said. "Take that as a compliment."

"Thank you."

"What was it you said you did for Colonel Castillo?"

"Whatever he asks me to do, Captain."

"Slick, Colonel," Big Frank said, smiling.

"Well, these bastards were waiting for Junior when he went to the airport, which means somebody told them he was going to the airport," Captain O'Day said.

"Or they set up their roadblock in the reasonable belief that some American agent was probably going to be on the Buenos Aires flight," Munz said. "It may have had nothing to do with Agent Timmons going to see Comandante Duffy."

"And your gut feeling?" Big Frank asked softly.

"That Agent Timmons was specifically targeted."

Big Frank nodded in agreement. Special Agent Timmons's mother inhaled audibly.

"Well, these bastards don't seem to mind whacking people," Wyskowski said. "They didn't have to kill Junior's driver, for Christ's sake."

This is going to drag on for a long time, Castillo thought, and probably turn into a disaster.

"They were sending a goddamn message, Stan-" one of the others, whose name Castillo had forgotten, began but was interrupted by His Honor the Mayor, who apparently was thinking the same thing Castillo was.

"Well, I think we've learned everything that's known," the mayor said. "My question is what happens next, Colonel Castillo? You're going right down there?"

"There are some things we have to do here first," Castillo said. "Ambassador Montvale, the DNI-"

"The what?" Sergeant Mullroney asked.

"The director of National Intelligence," Castillo replied. "He's going to have all the experts in this area-from the various intelligence agencies-waiting for us when we get back to Washington."

"Well, that should be helpful," the mayor said. "And with help in mind, Colonel, I thought Sergeant Mullroney, with his experience in Narcotics, might be useful to you, and I asked the commissioner to put him on temporary duty with you."